


Buck Naked

by hootyhoobuckaroo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Compound, Baking, Domestic Fluff, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Nudity, Skinny Dipping, Stupid Rookie Agents, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, charming bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-28 23:16:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15717111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hootyhoobuckaroo/pseuds/hootyhoobuckaroo
Summary: PROMPT -“I went skinny dipping and you went skinny dipping and this is most certainly not my shirt that I’m wearing.”orThe reader find the perfect place to go for a swim, and she meets one of her new neighbors who lives at the Avengers Compound. Basically Bucky scares the pants off her. It’s endearingly cute, kinda awkward, and a little funny. If you like meet-cutes, THIS FIC IS FOR YOU!





	Buck Naked

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I hope you like this! I was hung up on how to make it fit the prompt, but I think it did it justice. Also the lake mentioned it totally made up lmao. ALSO THE TITLE
> 
> (Also for later in the fic, vatrushka is described by Wikipedia as "an Eastern European pastry formed as a ring of dough with quark in the middle, sometimes with the addition of raisins or bits of fruit ... about five inches in diameter".)
> 
> ENJOY!!!

A twig crunched beneath your sneaker, and you winced as it sent a small creature skittering away through the underbrush. You caught sight of a retreating white cottontail bounding through the shrubs. Despite the fact you’d startled the animal, something about seeing it made the decision to go out on a walk all the more enjoyable.

For upstate Washington, the air was balmy with a slight breeze. The wind rustled the dense canopy above you, yet you felt protected by the layers of branches and leaves. There was the far-off sound of birds chittering, and you smiled to yourself yet again as you continued down the path.

Washington had been a change of scenery, when you scraped up every last penny to move out here. It had gotten you an insanely good deal on a small house – cottage, really – with an industrial sized kitchen in the back. Working out of your home with a team of four local female bakers, you’d already made quite a killing shipping pastries from your home. Packaged in neat lavender boxes, the baked goods went to local companies, farmers markets, and most recently, private clientele.

In your first month in operation, almost three months ago now, you had a meeting scheduled with a potential private buyer. You met with a lean man in an ill-fitting grey suit in your foyer, and answered several extremely specific questions about the extent of your culinary abilities – this was after you’d signed said multitude of NDA’s - the man’s explanation was that it was a common military precaution. You nodded hesitantly.

It was tense, and every few moments or so he would tap away at his tablet. You were then introduced to a terrifyingly efficient woman who introduced herself as Maria Hill, who strode into the foyer like she belonged there. She then asked you if you could feed super-soldiers, aliens, genetically enhanced persons, and those with specific eating plans, and do it all in a timely, healthy, and palatable manner. It took you a moment, but you gave her a smile and said, “I’d need to know a basic overview each individual’s eating schedule and dietary restraints, but I can make it work.”

Hill gave you a falcon-sharp look. “What makes you so sure?”

“I’m assuming that you’re looking for a chef for the Avengers. If it wasn’t for the specific list of clients, the man interviewing me earlier left his tablet unlocked,” you tilted your head towards the tablet resting on the chair across from you, “and from here I could see the Avengers logo as his home screen.”

Hill shook your hand, and let out a short huff. “Rookies.”

You were later introduced to the rookie agent who interviewed you, after you’d told him of his little slip up. He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I’m gonna get an earful for that.” Agent Wyler, as you came to know, was an overeager young fellow that was more than helpful when it came to bridging the gap between you and your new clients.

Wyler gave you thin dossiers for each of the team, as per the new contract, you would be churning out pastries every day for almost every purpose - breakfast, lunch, dinner, and of course dessert. And a few dozen just for snacking, of course. You’d jumped at the opportunity, a more than steady source of income for you and your small business. After Wyler and Hill had left, you and the ladies had clasped hands over the worktable and cheered. Fatima was going to use the extra money to send her daughter to music lessons, she proclaimed.

The first week, you and the girls worked your asses off for the first delivery. As per Wyler’s instructions, he or another rookie would pick up the pastries at 5:30 that Monday morning. You’d bundled up in a scarf and waited on the porch. Before you knew it, a black sedan trundled up the driveway, and a familiar agent stuck his head out the wind

You weren’t sure how, but Wyler cajoled you into coming with him for the delivery. To your shock, the Avenger’s Compound, in all its gleaming architectural glory, was a seven minute drive from your place. The drive was fairly roundabout, and at one point, Wyler had driven the car  _ under _ a grouping of rocks. One minute you were on the small belt road you’d driven so often, next minute the car had dipped downwards into a hidden tunnel system. The car reemerged just outside the main building, and you could only trot after Wyler with a look of shock gracing your features.

“Pretty cool right,” he grinned over a box of cannoli. “Hill said it was okay for you t’see it as she’s already done background checks on you and the rest of your employees.” You shot him an incredulous look. Wyler just shrugged. “Nothing personal – if you’re gonna even breathe the same air as Hill, it’s guaranteed she’s background checked you already.”

You left the compound in awe, letting your business face drop once you were back in the car with Wyler. You mentally prepared yourself never to be that excited again.

A week later, you received a note addressed to you and your team from “The Team” that briefly said how much they liked the baked goods. You and every other person in the kitchen hooted and hollered over the letter, rereading it at least five times, even though it was probably a not from some PA. There was a request to up the number of pastries to “keep up with the appetite of certain individuals”, which led to a small bout of speculation. Preeti suspected the super-soldiers, but your money was on Thor. A separate note from Agent Hill (and Agent Wyler, which was scrawled on beneath her neat type, said “We send our regards from the Avengers Initiative. We hope these will be useful in the colder months.” In the parcel was a dark grey windbreaker for each of you, with the Avengers logo on each sleeve.

And thus began your business with the Avengers.

Wyler had once recommended to take one of the many paths around the compound. Over a plate of baklava, which you’d saved for the amicable agent after he confessed to having a craving for it, he’d spilled some helpful recommendations for getting to know the area.

_ “When I’m not logging mission reports with the rest of the rookies,” you giggled at the loathing in his voice at the term, “I like going to the lake.” You cocked your head. “Oh, ‘s not far from here. Take the 6A Trail, and it’ll lead you straight to Lake Einhorn. It’s more of a pond but the water’s clear and calm.” _

And so you found yourself taking the 6A Trail, which was really quite scenic. The lush greenery was calming, and you found yourself stopping to admire a herd of deer, then some wildflowers, and finally, the lake. A dented metal sign let you know you’d arrived at Lake Einhorn.

Gravel crunched under your feet as you made your way to the beach. From the tree line, the ground sloped gracefully into the water’s edge, the gravel making way for fine sand and dirt. You knelt to feel the water. It was sinfully refreshing against your fingertips.

“Nice,” you breathed. Feeling a bit like a little kid, you traced your fingers through the water, admiring the way ripples travelled through the water. It was  _ so  _ nice. You bit your lip and pulled your phone.

3:52 PM.

You had some time to spare. You continued to crouch by the edge of the lake, until finally, you gave in. Finding a craggy rock, you placed your knapsack on it, which was quickly followed by your boots and socks. You knelt in the gravel to roll up the cuffs of your jeans, and then you jogged back down to the water. No one was there to see you, but you felt almost foolish with how widely you were grinning. You toed the fine silt, watching the way your feet stirred up clouds of dirt under the water.

Like Wyler had said, it was startlingly clear, and you could see tiny water plants rooted in the ground below. Further into the depths, you were pretty sure you could see the quick shadows of fish darting around under the surface.

You spent a good fifteen minutes wading around in the shallows, watching tadpoles and picking up pretty rocks that were only really pretty when underwater. A particular glint at the lake floor had you treading a little deeper, to the point where your rolled up jeans were now damp. You glared at the coin you’d just picked up, that’d so sneakily lured you into deeper water. You shoved it into your pocket, and strode back towards the shore.  _ Fuck it. _

You wrestled off your windbreaker, huffing impatiently as you struggled to get your tee shirt off with it. Then went the jeans, the pile of clothing propped up on the rock next to your boots. There was a brief internal struggle as you glanced towards the tree line, paranoid Wyler or some of his dorky agent buddies would come down the trail only to see you in your underwear. You sighed and hooked a finger into the waistband. You liked these underwear too much too potentially lose them to an impressively small lake.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you took a steadying breath, and made your way towards the water. You walked rather quickly, knowing that some bird or rabbit was making direct eye contact with your bare ass.

The water welcomed you back like an old friend, clinging to your still damp calves. You took a short exhale before stepping in further, letting the small waves you created lap against your thighs. It was cold, and you squealed a little, but that was all the invitation you needed. Taking a deep inhale, you ducked under the water and pushed off against the bottom with your toes.

The cold of the water bit at your eyes for a second when you opened them, but you couldn’t help stare at the scene in front of you. While no crystal tropical beach, the water was so clear you could see yards ahead of you in the water. There were small clumps of rock at the bottom, as well as plants, and sunken bits of wood. When you saw the fish, you couldn’t help but giggle, sending up a cloud of disruptive air bubbles. They spooked, and you watched them go before resurfacing.

And so this was how you began your first experience skinny dipping. Coming up for breath only when you had to, you swam around, exploring the lake. You couldn’t help but feel like a little kid again as you watched the ecosystem around you simply continue on with its day. The dragonflies that flew low and close to the surface made you smile, as did the bug-eyed fish, the water lilies near the far shore, and the ducklings that had just arrived.

You reached the middle of the lake, where there was a protruding mound of rock forming a tiny little island. A few stubborn shrubs and one small sapling flourished on top of the island, and you pulled yourself up on your elbows to get a closer look on the flowers.

Unbeknownst to you, on the shore which you arrived nearly an hour and a half ago, was a shaggy haired man with glinting metal fingers combing through his hair. He was on mile ten of his run, and as it somehow had become habit, he’d stopped for a breather at the lake. Despite not being tired, Bucky Barnes liked the excuse to stop by. It reminded him of the water running outside of his hut in Wakanda, when he’d first come out of cryofreeze.

He toed off his boots – “Fuck off Steve, I can run in boots ‘f I wanna” – and yanked off his socks. The water felt nice against his toes, not that he’d let anyone know that. For a moment, he just stood there up to his ankles in the crisp, clear water, with his hands in his pockets at he stared at the warming sky. It was early evening, around 5:45, yet the sun was already saying its goodbyes. Bucky gazed at the tree line behind him, back towards the compound.

Today was the fucking day he’d finally let himself have a treat. He remembered swimming in a biting cold river once, but that wasn’t a calm clear lake with ducks floating in it. That was different. He shuddered as he unzipped his windbreaker. Some rookie agent, Wyler was his name, as far as Bucky could remember, had mentioned in passing that the lake was great for swimming in. Wyler and all the other yapping rookies were off base for field training, which meant he could maybe … go for a swim.

No Wyler, no rookies, no one here to watch the decommissioned ex-Winter Soldier go for a dip in the lake.

Bucky listened for a moment, just to the little world around him, and when he heard nothing but crickets and bird trills, he stripped with military efficiency down to his boxers. Gathering up his boots and clothes, he stacked them lazily on a boulder. There was a small clump of them, so there was no risk in him forgetting where he placed his clothing. How could he miss the giant fucking rocks by the shore? Not fancying the thought of wet boxers, he shimmied out of them, where they went under his jacket.

Silently, he strode into the water. There was a long-forgotten memory of learning how to do this, but his legs cut through the water with virtually no noise as he moved. Once he was up to his collarbones, he let himself grin before ducking under the water.

From your spot by the miniature island where you were still admiring the flowers, who had been visited by a black and yellow butterfly, you heard a small splash. Your heart skipped a beat or two, and you all but threw yourself around the rocks to see the source of the noise. You saw no one. It was just you and the ducks.

You clung onto the rocks with one hand, not really needing the support as it was shallow near the island. The shale crumbled under your wet fingers as you watched the duck and her ducklings go about their duck business. You let yourself exhale.  _ It was just the ducks _ .

Stretching your toes, you decided to dive back under and explore.’

Meanwhile, in a single breath, Bucky gone to the other side of the lake, then back to the middle, where it was roughly twenty feet deep.  _ Not a very big lake. It _ made him quirk a grin only the fish could see. He dove down further, just for fun.

You resurfaced again, sucking in a deep breath.  _ God was this nice. _

There was another splash, but you let yourself sink back under the surface. The thought of little ducklings bobbing under the surface was so quaint, and you giggled to yourself as you swam deeper.

You came up for air three more times while a certain super soldier butterfly-kicked his way across the bottom of the lake. The ducks watched on curiously.

The sun was beginning to set, so you grudgingly set yourself a limit of one more dip under before you’d head pack. Swimming lazily by the island, you smiled at the curious robin perched on the lip of the rock before going diving under. You paddled deeper and deeper until you could look up at the water, and see the rays of sunlight filtering through. Just because, you reached out for the beams of light, and let them dance across your fingers. The way it illuminated your skin was quite pretty, and with your hair billowing around your face, you couldn’t help but feel like a mermaid.

You stretched your toes out in front of you, admiring them the way Ariel did in the movie. A light shape in the distance caught your attention. Short on breath and with muddied vision, you foolishly lean forwards. There was a pale hand clawing past the curtain of plants. A stream of air bubbles left your mouth, and you made a break for the surface. Gasping, you didn’t even try to catch your breath before kicking frantically towards the shore.

The thought of that pale hand grasping your ankle made you swim faster. It felt like only a heartbeat had passed when your feet finally hit the gravelly floor of the shallows. Michael Phelps was  _ quaking _ .

There was a series of splashes behind you.

Bucky was just minding his own business, paddling in lackadaisical turns and twists at the bottom of the lake when his hair tie had gotten snagged on a plant, and began to sink. For a beat, he considered leaving it, but Banner didn’t raise him to litter, and he wasn’t about to walk back to the compound with his hair plastered to his face like a drowned rat.

Grunting a few annoyed air bubbles, he made a grab for the hair tie. Luckily, his fingers closed around the elastic before it was lost to the depths. There was a slight tug on his left forearm.  _ Fuck _ . When he’d swung out an arm to propel himself forwards, the fine plates of his arm snared a delicate water plant.

It was moss green and lacey, and despite all his instincts telling him “screw the plant!” he let out a patient stream of air like he’d practiced, and calmly extricated the bits that he could from his arm. The plant would be fine, he decided. And that was enough nature for Bucky for one day. He began to kick off from the floor, his head turning when a movement in the water came from behind. Backlit by the sun was … a person? When did they get there?

Their silhouette was dark against the beams of light cutting down through the water, but from the ten feet above him, he was still able to make out the fine details of hair swirling in the water, feet kicking lazily.

He watched with amusement as the figure stretched out their toes, and wiggled them while laughing. He was surprised he even recognized the sound, but it made him smile too. God, he was a  _ creep _ .

He decided to surface a respectable distance away and make his presence known. As he swam up through the reeds, his faltered, his hand pawing at the plants. This person was  _ naked _ .

He watched with absolute horror as the person noticed him, and a stream of air bubbles left their mouth. They proceeded to absolutely book it in the opposite direction. Bucky winced. Sighing, he came up for air, then mentally braced himself for the awkward conversation that was about to ensue. He didn’t want to alarm the stranger by powering through the water like a shark, so he followed at a sedate pace, keep his eyes resolutely downwards.

By the time his feet brushed the ground, and he could comfortably stand, he risked a glance to see you already throwing on clothing.

Goosebumps bristling your skin, you made a grab for the grey windbreaker, sliding your arms through the sleeves.

“Hey!” came a harried voice from behind you. You jumped. “Uh, hey ‘m so sorry to startle you I thought I was alone in the lake and I didn’t see anyone so I thought it would be a good idea to go for a swim,” the speaker, someone with a raspy baritone, sucked in a quick breath before rushing on, “an’ my eyes are covered I swear I didn’t mean to see anything anyways I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. I am so  _ so  _ sorry.”

Pulling the jacket closed with crossed arms, you risked a peek over your shoulder. Still several feet from the edge of the water, you could see the head and shoulders of a man. His beard and hair were dripping fat drops down his neck, and strands of dark hair were plastered to his cheek and forehead. A hand was indeed clapped over his eyes, and he was facing a little to the left of you.

You laughed nervously. “No harm done. I’m sure your good people if you managed to find this lake to begin with.” It had been confirmed for you only vetted people could make their way this close to the lake without FRIDAY tripping an alarm.

The man in the lake sighed, and you could see a ruddiness crawl up his necks and cheek. “I’m still  _ so  _ sorry. This is the first and only time I’ve ever come to this lake.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. Tucking damp hair behind you ears, you spoke up. “Me too. A friend recommended I come here. I just wanted to uh … check it out, but the water is so nice.”

The mysterious dark haired man snorted. “Someone recommended I come to the lake too, but I’m not sure we’re friends.” He flicked the water with shiny fingertips. “Fuckin’ Wyler.”

You let out an incredulous gasp. “Wyler?”

The man in the pool cocked his head, hand still held faithfully across his eyes. “Y’know him?”

“Skinny string bean of a guy with way too much energy and too much optimism? Doesn’t know how to tie a tie?”

The man let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, I know the kid.  _ ‘Sure, try the lake it’s greaaat at this time of year! _ ’ As if.”

You smothered a giggle in your sleeve. It sounded so  _ wrong  _ hearing the agent’s peppy tone from such gruff man.

Wind gusted past your body, and all of a sudden you remembered you were cold and wet and  _ almost  _ naked. Thank god for the windbreaker. The guy in the water seemed to have the same idea. He shifted in the water. “Sorry for catching an eyeful earlier. I really didn’t see more than your legs, an’ I meant to come up to the surface like a normal person.”

He huffed.

“I kinda had the same idea, an’ uh, I was wondering if I could come get my clothes once you’re decent.” He ducked his head on the last word.

_ He was vetted _ , you decided. Making sure the windbreaker which fell to your thighs was all zipped up, you called, “I’m decent.”

He hesitated. “I know all’s fair an’ fair but would’ya mind turning around?”

You turned your back to him, letting the gravel crunch loudly under your feet. “No worries.”

You didn’t close your eyes like the stranger did, keeping them trained firmly on the canopy above. Hill would kill you for closing your eyes around an absolute stranger.

You heard him wade through the water, and the telltale crunch of gravel as he moved. Your head tilted when he approached the rock where your stuff lay, and you turned your head ever so slightly.

There was a pregnant pause. The birds chirped on, blissfully unaware of the awkwardness in the air.

Then came a cough from the stranger, and it almost sounded  _ embarrassed _ ? “Uh, is this yours?”

You didn’t turn around. “The boots and stuff on the rock, yeah it’s mine. I left it there earlier when I got in the water.”

Another cough.

“How do I put this?” You heard the gravel shift, and then a sigh. “Looks like we might have the same jacket.” Internally, you snorted at his comment. Well if he works at the Compound, of course he’d have Avenger’s gear. Why would he even bring it up? It wasn’t ev-

_ Oh. _

You finally caught on, your hands smoothing over the crinkly fabric. No wonder it was so long. Your bare ass was in someone else’s jacket.

You threw your face into your hands with a muffled scream. “Are you decent? Can we trade windbreakers?”

You heard a quick shuffle behind you. “M’kay I’m decent enough.”

_ Decent enough? _

You turned, half terrified of what you would see.

Of all the things you noticed in that moment, when you laid eyes on the stranger, the windbreaker was far from first.

The stranger was in a pair of black joggers and socks, nothing else. The pants were damp in some areas, and you could see the way the fabric clung to his calves. Your eyes began at his feet, which were clad in socks patterned with dogs. Of all things. Past his legs, which you resolutely did  _ not _ stare at, his chest was bare and glistening. It could have been a GQ cover shoot, save for the bits of leaf and goopy lake scum speckled across his chest. His hair was still pasted to his neck and face, and friendly blue eyes met yours. He had a twig right above his eyebrow.

One impressively muscled arm held out your windbreaker, and the other one, metal, was tucked to his side with his hand in his pocket.

_ Oh _ .

“Would it be weird to say that I’ve heard so much about you from Wyler? He’s like … terrified of you?”

That could have possibly been the  _ worst  _ thing to say to Sergeant James Barnes, aka the ex-Winter Soldier, and newest Avenger with the most heart-wrenching backstory.

Bucky threw back his head and laughed throatily. “Wyler, god that kid. Nothing gives me more pleasure than puttin’ the fear of God in his soul.”

You giggled and reached for your jacket. Something black with lace trim fell out of the pocket. It was all you could do not to gasp in terror when Bucky’s impressively fast reflexes kicked in, and he snared it in his grasp. Your panties were dangling off Bucky Barnes’s iconic vibranium fingers.

A duck quacked in the background as you both just stared at your panties. As if things couldn’t get worse, your bra slid out of the pocket not a moment later. Bucky kicked up his foot so it wouldn’t hit the dirt.

It was all you could do not to stare – you’d unwittingly made an Avenger into your coat rack. With both arms up, and his foot out, Bucky looked up at you with imploring eyes, his throat beginning to flush again.

“Right!” You practically yanked your panties from his left hand, snatched up your windbreaker, and after a moment of hesitation, darted down to get your bra.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbled, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. The setting sun cast a golden tint over his features, and your lip twitched. He was so endearingly sweet. Not to mention the way the light cast harsh shadows against the planes of his torso, making him look like some chiseled stone work of art.

“Give me just a second to get out of this,” you pulled at the collar of his windbreaker. You mimed covered your eyes until he got the hint, his eyes widening sheepishly.

Trying not to think about how your undergarments were just in Bucky’s hands, you wrangled them onto your damp body, which was then followed by your pants and tee.

You cleared your throat, waving the bundled up windbreaker in front of him. “Sorry, it’s a little wet.”

“My fault. Sorry I scared you.”

You giggled. “How many times have we said sorry?”

He ducked his head yet again.

For a minute or two, it was just the pair of you sitting in silence as you laced up your boots. Once you were done – well after he was,a task he’d done with military efficiency – you clapped your hands on your thighs.

“I didn’t even introduce myself,” you said sheepishly.

And so you shook hands like competent individuals. “I’m pretty sure you know who I am,” he said with a self-deprecating grin, waggling his metal fingers.

“Well yeah, how could I not immediately recognize you as The Bane of Agent Wyler’s Existence.”

Bucky’s laugh made you laugh too, and for a moment it didn’t feel awkward at all.

“It was really the hair,” you said seriously. “Wyler told me how much he liked your chic bob.” The mock growl you got in response set you off again.

Bucky’s features were beginning to get obscured in the dim light of evening, and you frowned down at your phone. It was 7:30. “Shit, I have to get going.”

You smiled apologetically at him as you got to your feet. “Do you happen to know the way back? I knew to take trail 6A but at this point, I don’t remember where that was.”

“Yeah, sure,” he fell into step next to you, a cheeky grin on his face. “I know the way from here.”

And so he led you down the path, telling you about everything from training new field operatives to just how mean he was to poor Agent Wyler. By the time you’d gotten to the edge of the Compound’s front lawn, you were comparing stories of when you first met Hill.

“I was so scared a her,” he huffed. “She took one look at me and told me ‘to shave that dead animal off my face’. She wants her agents clean shaven.” You frowned up at him. “But you’ve got a bit of stubble.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose. “Hill’s on a rookie training trip. She can’t nag me now.”

Sighing out a laugh, you checked the time. “I really better get going?”

Bucky toed the dirt. “Y’seem really nice. I uh, haven’t met a lot of nice people since moving up here, and rookies don’t count as company. I could walk you up the living hall and maybe we could get a dessert or something from the canteen.”

You gaped, long enough that his brow furrowed.

A sorry was on the tip of his tongue when you grinned.

“I’d love to talk some more, but I don’t know if I’m allowed in the main building without supervision.” You pointed to the Avenger’s “A” on the sleeve. “I’m not an agent or anything I just work for you guys.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed for a second, then he beamed at you, tongue poking out of his sunny smile. “I’m an Avenger, so they can’t tell  _ me _ no.”

He took a few steps up the lawn, still facing you. “C’mon, they have really good food I promise.

Leaning in like he was telling a secret, he whispered loudly, “They have really good vatrushka. I special ordered them ‘bout a week ago, and they’re great for late night snacks.”

You fell to the ground with an unearthly shriek, and it wasn’t until that Bucky realized that you were scream-laughing did he fall back on his heels next you.

Looking up at him with wet eyes, you stuttered out a giggle. “Y-you’re the reason my bake shop’s made three dozen vatrushka on Monday? Only to find more were needed by Thursday?”

Bucky’s mind came to a screeching halt, and it took several minutes before he remembered to tell you he didn’t eat them  _ all  _ by himself – just most of them.

And so, after your giggle fit on the lawn, you went with Bucky into the empty canteen, and had some vatrushka. You traded jokes and laughs and stories, and when the sun began to come up, you gave him your number too. “I gotta get back to the bake shop. We start bright and early.”

Bucky offered to drive you back, and was it worth it the look on your team’s face when a certain metal-armed superhero gave you a hand as you stepped out of the vehicle. He was on his way with a promise to visit, per your request. A twisted towel snapped against your butt brought you out of your reverie.

“He likes my vatrushka,” you said softly, not even bothering to hide your smitten grin.

“Everyone who tries it likes your vatrushka,” came the snarky reply of one of your girls, who snapped you with the towel once more. You yelped and covered your butt.

“We have dough to knead, you can tell us about the boy once you get in here,” came the voice of one of the older women.

You scampered inside, reaching for your apron. “You’ll never believe what happened ….”

Soon the bustling kitchen was filled with hoots and shrieks as you recounted the story. As you packed the daily delivery for the compound, you tucked in an extra vatrushka or five, along with a note for Bucky. If things worked out, he’d meet you back at the lake for a picnic.

\-------

It only took seven picnic dates by the lake for Bucky to kiss you, and then another three before you ran into the lake naked as the day you were born, inviting him to chase after you.

**Author's Note:**

> So, what did you think?! 
> 
> Let me know in the comments please because I'm still kinda nervous about posting my stuff on AO3! I'm more familiar with tumblr lmao
> 
> If you liked what you read, come find me on tumblr @hootyhoobuckaroo if you wanna say hi or even make a request - my requests are open so please drop one in the ask box if you feel like it!


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